


The Unwelcome Caller

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Sussex Retirement [17]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: The man who calls at Holmes' and Watson's Sussex cottage wants more than just a little food.





	1. Convenient Hearing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for two prompts at LJ's Older not Dead 'Senses' Challenge

Holmes has always had good hearing, and not much of importance ever escaped his attention.  It was not just the words themselves, but the way they were spoken, indeed the very accents they were spoken in, which were of use to him as he made his deductions.  Of course, over the years his hearing has lost a little of its sharpness, but even now if I wish to keep something from him I make sure there are at least two solid walls between us before I will speak.

On the other hand there have been times when the speaker could be standing next to him and he still wouldn’t hear what was said.  I have lost count of the number of times over the years Mrs Hudson complained about the state of our rooms and Holmes would continue as if she hadn’t spoken.  I myself could spend several minutes discoursing on an item in the newspaper, only to have Holmes look up and say “of course, it had been raining earlier that evening”.  Even now I might be describing the new plans Seth and I had for the garden and Holmes would remark, “the bees seemed a little more sluggish today”.

Mrs Maiden had no more success with Holmes than Mrs Hudson did.  I could hear her objections to the state of the plate Holmes had been using for an experiment, which had concluded with “And don’t pretend you can’t hear me.  I know you’re not deaf.”

At that moment there was a knock on the side door and Mrs Maiden went to answer it.  We both heard a man’s voice, asking if there were any odd jobs he could do.  When Mrs Maiden politely declined, the voice became more of a whine, the man saying he’d walked all the way from Stepney in London and how it was a shame people with roofs over their heads didn’t show more charity to the poor.

I was about to go to Mrs Maiden’s aid when Holmes put one finger to his lips and pressed his other hand on my arm to stop me from getting up.  Meanwhile Mrs Maiden told the man to leave and shut the door firmly behind him.

Holmes called out, “It might be as well to lock the door, Mrs Maiden, just in case our visitor thinks of returning.”

“Do you think that’s a possibility, Holmes?” I asked.

“If he thinks there may be valuables he could steal, then yes.  A man does not lie about where he comes from unless he has something dishonest in mind.  That was a south London accent, so I rather doubt he had come all the way from Stepney.  I also doubt he walked, but that is another matter.”

Mrs Maiden had come into the room and heard the end of Holmes words.  “Is there anything you would like me to do about him, Mr Holmes?”

“Could you ask the village constable to step up here this afternoon?  I think the matter might be worth his attention.”

“Do you wish me to go for him now?”

“No, there is no need.  Just call on him on your way home.  Nothing will happen until later.”

“Very well, sir.”

Mrs Maiden returned to the kitchen to finish preparing our dinner, and presumably to have another attempt at removing the sticky residue from the plate.

Holmes turned to me.  “I realise we are no longer as young as we once were, but do you still have it in you to undertake a small adventure?  There may even be some slight danger.”

“Will I be needing my revolver?”

Holmes nodded, “It would not hurt if you were to take it with you.”

I have to say the idea of a little excitement served to quicken the blood and provided a way for Holmes and I to entertain ourselves between Mrs Maiden’s departure and the arrival of Constable Turner.


	2. You See But You Do Not Observe

That evening saw Holmes, Constable Turner and myself sitting in the dark in the parlour of one of our neighbour’s cottages.  Mrs Miller was the respectable widow of the doctor whose practice Dr Hogarth had taken over.  She too had had a visit from our supposed beggar from Stepney, but instead of sending him away with a flea in his ear, Mrs Miller had let the man into her kitchen and given him some money.

Holmes had asked me to explain to the widow this generous act would, in all likelihood, be rewarded by the man bringing a confederate or two back that night to help themselves to her valuables.  She had been furious at me for telling her this, and then, when Holmes had explained his reasoning, had been furious at the man for taking advantage of her. 

We had tried to persuade Mrs Miller to stay somewhere else for the night, but she refused to leave.  And when Mabel, her live in maid, had ventured some alarm, her mistress had said with alacrity, “I shall be taking the poker to bed with me; you can take the coal scuttle and shovel and will be doubly armed.”  I just hoped in the darkness they would not assail the wrong person.

Constable Turner had been dubious the gang would try anything that night, since people would still remember the beggar calling in the morning.  Holmes, however, had said they were more likely to act swiftly and then move on to another potential village, since it was unlikely news of the burglary would reach a village even ten miles away in time for the suspect to be apprehended. 

Turner nodded.  “Yes, they could easily repeat the pattern for a week or two and make a substantial haul for themselves, before returning to London.”

At a little after eleven we heard the click of a door opening, and the quiet tread of three men entering the cottage.  There was a murmur of voices as the leader directed the others as to where to go and then the creak of a stair.  Constable Turner hurriedly made his way towards the stairs to protect the two women who had gone to bed.

Meanwhile, Holmes and I went to confront the two men who had remained downstairs.  As we did so we heard a loud crack and then the sound of what had to be a body falling down the stairs.  A woman shrieked and a man’s voice shouted “Out of my way and you won’t get hurt!”

Holmes shone his light, which illuminated the other two men.

One of them sneered at him.  “Mr Sherlock Holmes.  What a surprise to see you here.  And all by yourself.”

“So it would appear,” Holmes said.

The man advanced, a knife in his hand.  “And forced to rely on a stick now.”

“Sadly, yes.”

The man laughed and stretched out his hand.

Holmes raised his stick and with a sharp blow knocked the knife out of the man’s hand.  “Indeed, I do rely on the stick now for defence.  My days of fist fighting are unfortunately over.”

Meanwhile, I had pushed my revolver into the other man’s back and he too surrendered.

At the moment there was a loud crash, followed by a low groan.  I looked worriedly across at Holmes, who smiled and said, “The coal scuttle I think.”

He then raised his voice and called, “Ladies, it is safe for you to join us.”

Mrs Miller called down, “We shall be there in a minute.  We’re just tying this man to the banisters.”

They came into the parlour a few minutes later, accompanied by Constable Turner, who didn’t seem to have suffered any lasting injuries.

Mrs Miller lit the lamps and Mabel ran to fetch Dick Mason and his brother who were waiting in our cottage in case help was needed to escort prisoners to the jail.

As we walked back to our own cottage, Holmes said, “I was surprised to see Chivers again.  He used to favour robbing jeweller’s, not individual houses.  Clearly he has fallen on hard times.”

“If such men are now involved in this sort of crime,” I replied, “letting the ladies remain in the cottage was perhaps too great a risk.”

“But, when you see items relating to the Women’s Social and Political Union, you can be sure the lady you are dealing with has a definite strength of mind.  In addition, Mabel, our little housemaid, is not of the sort you were used to in London houses.  This young woman has only recently come into domestic service, having been a farmer’s daughter, and well used to handling calves and other livestock.”

“So once again you will chide me for failure to notice things.”

“Indeed not my dear fellow.  The one who made the real mistake was Chivers who saw me, but failed to observe you standing in the shadows.” 


End file.
